


Faking It

by Skairunner



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Bakery, Brockton Bay, Canon Compliant, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-03 20:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16333184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skairunner/pseuds/Skairunner
Summary: Lisa and Taylor go to a bakery. Lisa has thoughts about the quality of the baked goods.





	1. Chapter 1

To Lisa, the bakery smelled awful. The "fresh-baked" scent was a chemical lie carefully mixed in a lab halfway across the continent, aerosolized and vented with warm air into the interior and the sidewalk. Generic toasty, starchy smell that the human mind associated with the baked goods on display—things that were baked more than half a day ago, from refrigerated factory-made dough placed on trays by hand masquerading as _fresh_ and _hand-made_ , coated with the spittle of people speaking and dust from the streets, things that were touched and then put back by indecisive soccer moms—it all made her want to puke.

"It smells good in here," Taylor said. She'd meant it to be neutral, but Lisa didn't need her power to tell she was more than admiring, buoyed away by the association to memories of her mom and dad. Something Taylor clearly thought had been a happy time, a half-truth she never stopped telling to herself.

An automatic quip had filtered through her head and was halfway to her tongue, something that would deliver the awful truth with a hook in it that would dig at her subconscious, barbed and completely deniable, when she stopped. Taylor wasn't even looking at her anymore, drifting over to an open display of machine-rolled croissants that said _five for two_ under it on paper printed from a creaky old discount inkjet.

Maybe her mother had made croissants. Maybe they'd even been good. Hand-made in more than just a technicality, fresh, hygienic enough to tolerate, kneaded with attention to detail and baked with care. Maybe she'd actually loved Taylor, and no problems were brewing under the surface, and maybe Taylor had truly, actually been happy.

"Are you going to get any?" Lisa said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after.

"It's not as good as my mother used to make," said Taylor, looking down at the buttery half-moon, a bite missing from both tips. Her memories were flawed, improved upon, built up by her mother's death. This bread was probably just as good, if not better.

"We can try making it," said Lisa. No matter what they made, it wouldn't hold up to the memory of such a thing. Taylor would stubbornly insist that this was just—missing something—and therefore not as good.

Everyone lied to themselves. Self-deceptions that kept them going, kept them capable. Little white lies that made them feel better. Diverted blame.

"Sure," said Taylor. "I wouldn't mind trying."

Trying. She wouldn't ever try to make something better than the memory. Attached to her memory of her mother's belongings. And maybe that was okay. Not to always aspire to perfection. "Yeah," said Lisa, reaching out a hand.

Taylor beamed, and Lisa took a croissant from the bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harbin wrote this as a response to Faking It. I quite like it.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Lisa/Taylor in a bakery, courtesy of Nihilistic Janitor.


End file.
